


Demonic Temptation

by nochick_fics



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Muraki does not mind when a mysterious demon hurts Tsuzuki.  But killing Tsuzuki is something he will not allow anyone else to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demonic Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheshirejin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirejin/gifts).



> Originally posted to LiveJournal on 10/5/13.

Muraki had seen enough. While he usually enjoyed watching Tsuzuki suffer, preferably by his own hand, there was a limit to how long he was willing to share his playthings. And that he had deigned to share this particularly coveted plaything in the first place was, in his own opinion, rather generous.  
  
He slowly approached the stranger who hovered over Tsuzuki’s broken body, his echoing footfalls the only thing loud enough to drown out the sound of the Shinigami’s pained gasping. Muraki stopped in front of the two beings, surveying the damage with one real and one artificial eye, and then leveled his gaze at the culprit, who appeared no worse for wear in spite of the brutal pummeling he just dispensed. There was something different about the man's aura, something... not precisely natural. Upon closer inspection, Muraki soon realized that the man who looked like a mere butler was not a man at all, but in fact, a demon.  
  
Well... this could be interesting. Perhaps Muraki could find some room in his collection for a specimen such as this.  
  
But first there was the matter of a battered Shinigami to deal with.  
  
“I do believe that Mr. Tsuzuki has had enough fun for today,” he said as his eyes trailed over the demon's slender form. “If you are in search of further… entertainment… I’m sure that his partner would suit your needs.”  
  
Muraki's smile was positively lecherous.  
  
“Speaking from _personal experience_ ,” he added.  
  
The demon was unmoved by Muraki's veiled protectiveness of Tsuzuki, twisted though it was. He casually stepped over Tsuzuki's body as if it were nothing more than a fallen branch and confronted the doctor.  
  
“Your tone suggests that you harbor an attachment to this Shinigami,” he pointed out.  
  
“I do,” Muraki agreed. “He is my intended. In a manner of speaking.”  
  
“I see. I despise all Shinigami myself.” Crimson eyes glowed with amused cruelness and studied the doctor, sizing him up. “I suppose that you would feel the need to intervene should I insist on maintaining my present course of action.”  
  
If nothing else, the demon's statement was, to date, the most elegant challenge that Muraki had ever received. With each passing second, he was becoming more and more fascinated by the gorgeous creature in front of him. And, as Tsuzuki himself could confirm, being the object of the madman's attention was never a good thing.  
  
“I would,” Muraki confirmed.  
  
He struck lightning fast, binding the demon in place with a powerful spell. With that accomplished, Muraki carefully advanced on his prey, his urge to cut and maim and rend overpowering... and a tad bit sexual. He splayed his fingers against the stranger’s chest and imagined plunging his way inside of it, tearing through flesh and muscle and bone with his bare hands. A most arousing idea.  
  
If the demon was at all bothered by his imminent molestation and murder, he had yet to show it. Instead, he broke free of Muraki's invisible restraint with little effort and tackled him to the floor, knocking off the doctor's glasses in the process and pinning him down with a strength that belied his lean body. Muraki did not budge or make a sound, even as digits curled around his neck and a firm ball of heat pressed teasingly against his thigh. After all, he was not one to die so easily, even when such a fate seemed inevitable.  
  
The demon leaned in close, close enough that strands of fine black hair brushed against Muraki's cheek and forehead, close enough that his body had no choice but to react.  
  
“Your soul smells like rot.”  
  
Muraki was hardly surprised by the assessment. If the demon really could sense such things, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, then it stood to reason that a lifetime of lunacy would have permeated all levels of his being.  
  
With considerable effort, he managed to free one arm from his captor's grip and with that, the fight was on. They rolled around, on the floor, against the wall, and in the air, their bodies a contorted bundle of rage and lust and madness. After a while, Muraki bound him again and produced a large, sharp knife, seized by his desire to fuck and kill. Or kill and fuck. Either way was fine by him. He ripped open his would-be victim's shirt and touched the tip of the blade to his chest... then found himself being flung backwards through the air until he hit a wall with a resounding and spine-shattering crash.  
  
“Very impressive,” the demon cooed as he walked toward him. “For a human.”  
  
Muraki stared in a rare instance of true awe as a flurry of black feathers descended upon the demon and he began to... _change_ , his handsome visage morphing into a terrible, awful, yet somehow beautiful thing. It was unlike anything Muraki had ever seen... and it made him want the creature even more.  
  
It occurred to the killer that he had underestimated his opponent; holding his own against the demon's human form was hard enough but this particular version could very well be his undoing. Even so, and as always, he had an ace up his sleeve, a last resort attack that never failed in its effectiveness. But just as he began to call forth the creature spirits that would destroy everything in their wake, a forgotten Tsuzuki summoned the shikigami Suzaku, and the last thing Muraki remembered after that was being swallowed by a sea of flames...  
  
*****  
  
“You ruined my suit,” Muraki said sometime later, staring down at his outfit which was still in surprisingly good shape, all things considered.  
  
Tsuzuki shook his head at the preposterous claim. “I saved your life,” he reminded him.  
  
“Ah, but I saved yours first.” Muraki narrowed his eyes at his reluctant beloved. “How do you intend to thank me?”  
  
A fierce blush lit Tsuzuki's face, as it usually did where Muraki's inappropriateness was concerned, and he averted his eyes to avoid the man's devious gaze.  
  
“I'm leaving,” he shakily announced.  
  
Muraki approached Tsuzuki and looked at him with insanity and affection. “Do be careful,” he warned him. “You never know what sort of monsters are lurking.”  
  
He grinned as the visibly flustered Shinigami stormed away from him. Tsuzuki was so impossibly adorable that Muraki almost lamented having to kill him one day.  
  
The doctor paced around for a bit, testing out his newly healed spine. It had been an injury catastrophic enough to render a normal man paralyzed for life.  
  
Thankfully, Muraki was no normal man.  
  
He turned and took his leave, heading off in the direction opposite Tsuzuki and contemplating his new acquaintance. Muraki had a feeling that this was not the last time he would cross paths with the demon. He smiled at the thought of seeing him again, reveling in his anticipation as he made his way home under the ominous light of a blood red moon.


End file.
